


All of These Memories

by el_em_en_oh_pee



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canonical Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-20
Updated: 2007-09-20
Packaged: 2017-10-16 21:37:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/169605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/el_em_en_oh_pee/pseuds/el_em_en_oh_pee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Percy is very, <i>very</i> torn up after Cedric's death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All of These Memories

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the lj fest percy_ficathon.
> 
> This fic incorporates selective canon from DH, but not in any way that makes a huge amount of sense. That is, Percy's Moment of Awesome is included, but it -- and the final battle -- happens a few years after it does in canon). Basically, same Major Percyish Occurrences from all seven books, different time frame.

No one understood. No one ever could have understood, no one ever would understand, and even if he out-and-out explained exactly what happened, what it bloody well _meant_ to Percy when Cedric didn't come out of that maze, no one would probably even realise that there even was something _to_ understand. At first, even Percy didn't understand -- refused to understand. Cedric couldn't be dead, he reasoned. He was a brilliant wizard, for all that he wasn't as studious as Percy himself. It was even almost inconceivable that he would even be _hurt_ (only that bout with the dragon had cured Percy of putting _too much stock_ into the latter theory), would be inconceivable that anything worse than a little dragon-caused injury could happen to him, but Percy (as always) was certain to allow himself the proper amount of reality.

In the beginning, when Cedric was chosen, Percy had been filled with tremendous pride. They had been seeing each other since halfway through Percy's seventh year (to his dying day, he still wouldn't be _quite_ positive how it had started, how Percy had become gay(ish) in the first place). Cedric managed to convince Percy to bed him for the first time that night, though they barely did so much as kiss after: Percy had duties, had to work in Mr. Crouch's place when he couldn't make it; it would _not do_ for an administrator to be canoodling with one of the contestants. They planned for 'something special' for aver the Tournament. Cedric was to dictate all if he won, Percy if anyone else did.

Percy had no doubt that Cedric would win.

But then Cedric came out of the maze, and he didn't come out walking. At first, Percy told himself that victory must be exhausting and shared victory even moreso, but that logical part of him reminded how unlikely that was (he cursed logic for a full eighteen hours after), and his understanding grew, sharp and painful.

It didn't take him long to realise that no one else truly felt the same way. Even Harry Potter, who Percy had expected to understand the most how Cedric's death could affect, was preoccupied with some tale of how You-Know-Who was back. (Percy would have called the tale tall, but he would not allow himself to believe that _anyone_ could lie about such things). Granted, no one in his family _knew_ that Percy had been seeing Cedric, but _still_. One could expect others to _get_ the concept of 'horrible, devastating death' -- couldn't one? Sure, they were _upset_ (Percy would have probably done something _drastic_ if they weren't), but for all the reasons that didn't _really_ matter. And Percy couldn't stand it.

For two weeks after everyone came home, Percy stayed home, stayed in his room, touching himself (mostly a spot on his chest, the spot Cedric had always touched before, the spot where it hurt most), shouting at the twins when they interrupted his 'work' ("Calm down, Weatherby," they would always shout back), and leaving only when he had to go to the Ministry.

On the second day of the third week, Percy left home.

†‡†

For a split second, living on his own was thrilling: the space, the lack of siblings, the lack of...

The remembrance of the lack of Cedric spoiled his homecoming.

A few days after he moved in, he threw himself into work. His job became the one thing on his mind -- the one thing that kept him from thinking about Cedric. He was pretty damn good at distracting himself, too -- within a month of the start of his dogged focus, he had risen higher in the Ministry than his father had ever gone. And he kept going -- every time memories of Cedric threatened to surface, Percy took on another hugely difficult project. His career was growing by leaps and bounds -- and so was his denial.

  
At Christmastime, he received a jumper from his mother. And didn't leave for work, as he had been planning to.

Back when Cedric was alive, he used to love Percy's mother's jumpers. He wore one under his robes when he went off into that maze. Right after Percy'd gotten home, he had secretly burned all of his remaining jumpers.

So he sent this one back to his mother, and hoped (a very small, fleeting sort of hope) that she would understand.

  
And of course, there was the time the Minister made him visit home (for as much as Percy didn't want to, he couldn't think of his flat as 'home'. 'Home' was the Burrow, complete with all six noisy siblings, complete with his fathers' Muggle paraphernalia, complete with his mothers knitting and clock and cooking. Complete with Harry Potter and sometimes even that Granger girl (who he had thought of as 'the best thing to happen to this place' back in school). The flat was just... the flat was just Cedricless). Percy didn't want to go. He knew that, if he went, he would see Cedric walking around the corner of the house, like that one time just after seventh year ended, when Cedric had _walked_ to the Burrow after everyone was asleep just for a very-early-morning kissing session in the garden, surrounded by frolicking gnomes, or Cedric's smile in the kitchen, where Percy had snuck him in during Easter holiday for flurried groping and kissing while the rest of his family was out, or Cedric's memory, haunting him everywhere he turned. Only, he couldn't say no the Minister. The more important Percy got in the Ministry, the easier it was to forget Cedric for a few moments.

After Percy got back from _that_ particular sojourn (wherein he wasn't at all able to even talk to his family, he was so choked up -- he was regretful for this, but not as much as he reasoned he _should_ be), he decided to re-examine his homosexuality. It had, thus far, put rather a sizable limitation on his life for the past few years and, he thought, had become something he really would rather not have to deal with. Logically, and from a certain amount of experience, he knew that he couldn't quite _refute_ it, but (he thought), he could certainly try and _minimalise_ it... right?

So he took out all the notes he'd taken on How To Be A Proper Homosexual Male back in seventh year and examined each scroll carefully, promising he would never do any of the acts he'd listed before ever again. Some of them, he'd miss: reading Oscar Wilde, having one female friend who knew of the homosexuality and who hung around because of/despite it (he almost balked at this one, until he realised he hadn't even spoken to Penelope for a year and a half), brie. Some of them, he wouldn't: Polari, for instance (the first time he'd said "vada that bona omi with his dolly eek and fantabulosa dish", he'd practically died of mortification), and pastel colours.

He studied those notes nightly for a week, figuring if he could have made himself the Ideal Homosexual, he could make himself the Ideal Heterosexual by doing absolutely nothing the Ideal Homosexual would have done. A part of him wondered why he was still so bent on Cedric's death -- it had, after all, been several years ago, and didn't people get over such things much quicker anymore? -- but he squelched that thought and studied harder.

  
And then, just two weeks after Dumbledore's (lamentable) death, Percy received an owl.

 _Ignatius,  
Don't get me wrong and think I forgive you because I don't but I'm worried about Harry. He broke up with me after Dumbledore's service which was rather unlike him as up till then he seemed to want anything but breaking it off. I of course understand his reasons but I am worried that without someone to help him (he's pushed Ron and Hermione away too) he might come to some harm. If the locater spell I did earlier was right then he is staying very close to you right now. I would appreciate it if you looked out for him as you didn't for me and the rest of us. I hope I can trust you this once. This does not mean I won't hex you next time I see you. I thought he might be of particular interest to you as he was poking around in your room before he went off. I think he took something from there but I am not sure. Please stop being an arse for once and at least let me know he still has all mental faculties.  
Ginny._

Percy considered ignoring the owl, but he _did_ want to know why Harry had been poking about in his old room. He decided to go find Harry at some point, maybe in a month, if only so he would have an excuse to send an owl back to Ginny explaining proper use of commas and protesting her use of his middle name.

†‡†

He ran into Harry sooner than he'd imagined he would: at a corner grocery very close to his flat. He almost froze up with memories of Cedric, and the fact that Harry was the last to see him alive, but instead strode up (in a very non-homosexual manner) and said, as pompously as he could manage, "Harry Potter?"

"Percy!" Harry said, whirling around.

Percy smiled, in a way that he could only describe as 'reassuring', and extended his hand.

Harry turned and ran, leaving the jar of olives and loaf of bread he'd been holding on the shelf.

  
Percy was admittedly intrigued after this encounter, and a week later saw him trying to make some sort of sense of the Sightings of Potter (this was the title of the list he'd started making after the grocery) he'd experienced. There was something undeniably capturing about Harry Potter -- he was, somehow, the one distinctly Cedric-related person (or place, or thing) in Percy's past that didn't immediately cause the memories to come welling up, that didn't make Percy freeze with memory and pain. He was curious about why Harry had been in his room, about what Harry was _doing_ in London (in a small flat not far from his own), about why Harry wasn't with the rest of his family...

For a three-minute period, he entertained the thought that he could have just focused on Harry instead of work, but immediately wrote it off as 'creepy and not at all on'. Following on this thought, he threw himself back into work with a fervour, determined not to follow Harry around anymore (because, of course, he didn't want to come off as creepy).

And then he started running into Harry just about every time he left his flat.

  
Each time he ran into Harry, for that first fortnight, he would wave and hurry past, because _obviously_ , he couldn't be distracted from his ascension at work (Also, there was the fact that Harry looked like he wanted nothing to do with him). Until the night when Percy was coming back from work late (there had been mishaps with some papers) and he ran across Harry, who seemed decidedly inebriated (and still underage, Percy was certain) and decidedly cheerful to see him.

"Percy, hi!"

Percy wasn't exactly sure what to say -- this must have been the second thing he'd heard Harry say in, oh, ever since Cedric died. ( _Cedric_!)

"'mnot him, Perce," Harry said, and Percy wondered if he'd said Cedric's name out loud. "I'm... what?"

"'mnot Cedric, Percy. 'sdead. 'spartly my fault."

"I didn't say--"

"Yes, you did," Harry stated with great finality. "'scool, though. Glad to be mistaken for someone with dashing good looks."

"Dashing... good... looks?" Percy said, weakly, because he'd thought the same thing of Cedric before. Maybe he had made a mistake, thinking that Harry wouldn't be as awful to face as everything back home.

"Yeah," Harry said. "Good looking bloke. Miss him."

Percy just stood, blinking at Harry, who blinked back for a moment. The whole situation was growing decidedly awkward.

"Be seeing you," Harry said, finally, and gave a little half-wave and walked off.

  
That night, Percy let himself remember -- Cedric, and their relationship, and _everything_ , and the hurt wasn't so raw and unforgiving as it had been a year ago, even though it was still present. He thought of how he and Cedric had first realised that there was something more between them than a tentative friendship and similarities in their Prefect duties (it had been late, while on duty, and Cedric had ended up saying 'sod it all' after a very uncomfortable discussion, and Percy had almost hated it, at first, and he hadn't been _gay_ then, and Cedric had been so clear in what he wanted, and Percy would give anything to have that moment back), and of how they'd first kissed (Cedric had just lost a Quidditch game and he was sweaty and didn't want to go shower off because he felt like the loss was his fault, and he didn't want to have to make his team-mates feel any worse, and Percy had found him under the stands and kissed him (he'd been surprised to be the one to initiate) and it had felt so _good_ and so _right_ and he'd never wanted it to end, even then, at the very beginning of their relationship). Percy remembered the time they'd almost broken his glasses, the time Cedric had said, "Harry Potter's a decent chap," the time after the First Task and the time during the Yule Ball when that Chang girl was off in the loo and Cedric had pulled him aside in the bushes and snogged him for a good ten minutes and only stopped because teachers were about and they didn't want to get caught. He remembered their first (and last) time together, in bed, and how it had _felt_ and how Cedric had said "Usually I'm not one to be on the bottom but you can fuck me and maybe it will be more comfortable for you" and how Percy had ended up bottoming, because he didn't want to impose and because he realised, somehow, that sex was one sort of control he didn't _have_ to have.

And then, after all that thought (he was proud to realise that he hadn't cried at all), he decided to sod his homosexual notes and write Penelope. And for the first time, he didn't have to focus on forgetting Cedric at work the next day.

  
He didn't see Harry again for a week.

†‡†

After that week, he began seeing Harry more than ever (at first, he would have to admit, he was pleased to note that Harry was not, in fact, gone, as he had suspected for a few days. He would not admit, however, that this pleasure was rooted in anything but the fact that he didn't want Ginny hunting him down with a Bat-Bogey Hex at the tip of her wand).

One day, Harry game up to him (completely sober) and said, without preamble: "Tell me about Cedric."

Percy froze. "What about him?"

"You had a picture of him in your room," Harry said. "You must have known him decently well."

"We were... friends," Percy said, closing his eyes against the feelings coursing through him. "Why do you ask."

"It's this... thing I have to do," Harry said. "For the war. I have to know some things."

"Like?"

"Like did he have any, oh, really _old_ things? Like, as old as Godric?"

Percy was intrigued, but did not want to think about it too hard. "I don't recall."

Harry shifted from foot to foot. "Can you maybe figure out for me and let me know?"

"I don't know," Percy said, as honestly as he could. "It might be difficult."

"But you've got a brilliant memory!" Harry protested. "You have to, considering all of those OWLs and NEWTs you got."

"Thank you," said Percy, taken rather aback. "But maybe the memories are harder than the remembering."

"What?" Harry asked, as Percy turned and walked away.

He paused in his exit. "I'll let you know," he said, and was gone.

  
Over the course of two days, Percy examined his memories, through Pensieve, for what Harry was looking for. And on the third day, when he ran into Harry yet _again_ , he had an answer. "Yes."

"Yes what?" Harry asked, trying to keep his groceries contained in one bag.

"Yes, Cedric had something that old," Percy said, reaching out to assist Harry. "Shall I help you take these to your flat?"

Harry considered for a moment. "Yes," he decided. "And you can tell me about Cedric's artefact there."

  
"It wasn't so much of an artefact as a set of scales," Percy told Harry once all groceries were safely on Harry's counter. "Allegedly belonging to one of the first students at Hogwarts."

"Do you know where it might be?" Harry asked, fiddling with his wand.

"Ah, well," Percy cleared his throat. "I have it."

Harry leapt up. "Can I see it?"

Percy wasn't very sure about this. "Why do you want to see it?"

"It has a great deal to do with saving the world," Harry said. "I really can't say more than that."

Percy considered. "I, um, well," he said, eloquently.

Harry took a deep breath. "LookPercyIknowyouhadathingforhimit'sokay."

" _What_?"

"I um," Harry said. "I sort of -- Percy, you really should disguise your diaries as something other than _tax manuals_. Most people don't really keep them on their nightstand."

Percy blinked. Twice. "You found my _tax manuals_?"

"I, er, yeah," Harry admitted. "All in the name of saving the world!"

"You really have to get over this saving the world business," Percy said, distractedly. His mind was racing. Harry _knew_ about _Cedric_ when no one else (not even _Penelope_ back at _school_ ) did. Except for maybe that Chang girl...

"Cho tipped me off, actually," Harry continued glibly, ignoring Percy's poke at his chivalry. "When I mentioned I was looking for really _old_ things at a reconstitution of a DA meeting back at Hogwarts, she mentioned something about Cedric mentioning _you_ , so."

"Oh," Percy said, still very much held up by the fact that someone else _knew_. It was, strangely, more constricting than he thought it would be. "I suppose you can see it."

Harry grinned. "Just lead the way!" he said, and followed Percy to his flat.

After careful inspection of the scales, Harry decided they weren't what he was looking for (He wouldn't tell Percy what he _was_ looking for, though). And Percy expected that to be the last of Harry.

  
Four days later, though, Harry knocked on his door almost immediately as soon as Percy got back from work. "I need a second opinion," he said, holding up a book. "It has to do with Vol-- You-Know-Who, and it's rather important."

So Percy let him in. He let him in the next day, too, and the day after that, and the day after that, until a whole month had gone by with Harry in his comfortable chair, discussing Dark spells and strategy. Percy didn't think to question it. He quickly came to realise that he relished the company, and he didn't want it to disappear because of an ill-timed comment. And those times when Percy was leaning over Harry to point out a passage in the text, or handing Harry a cup of tea, and their hands brushed, or Percy's shirt settled on Harry's hair -- Percy didn't want to think about the implications of that, but he knew he didn't want to lose it, either. And he began to reconsider his rejection of homosexuality.

†‡†

A week later, Percy noticed (but studiously ignored) the fact that their accidental touches were growing more pronounced, more frequent, more lengthy, until, finally, he could take no more. Taking off his glasses (so as not to see Harry's expression clearly) and polishing them, he said, "Harry."

"Mmm." Harry closed his book around his finger. "Yes?"

"Harry, what are you doing?"

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, the inflections in his voice signalling 'confusion'.

"Harry, just because of Cedric and, er, me -- it doesn't mean that you should..."

Harry lay the book down, carefully. "Percy, I'm not... I don't feel sorry for you -- okay, I do, but not _that_ sorry -- and you wouldn't be an experiment, and, and, and I _knew_ Cedric's scales weren't what I was looking for, ever since I read your, your tax manuals. I was looking for a _cup_. I've sort of been thinking about this for a while, now, and, and, don't tell me I shouldn't--"

"--What?" Percy said, thoroughly taken aback, putting his glasses back on, so he could see Harry's face more clearly.

"I, I like you," Harry said, earnestly. "And I think that maybe you like me too, and, and, oh _sod_ it." And with that, Harry surged up and kissed him, carefully.

"I -- _what_?" Percy asked, pulling away, thinking very rapid thoughts about _Cedric_ and _what about_ and _really_.

Harry reddened. "Um, well, never mi--"

But he was cut off by Percy kissing him back, because there was another measure of loneliness shortened, because maybe it would help him forget Cedric again.

And then Harry broke it off, abruptly, shoving his hand into his pocket. " _Fuck_."

Percy blinked. "Beg pardon?"

Harry held up a Galleon. "Hermione has these things that um. She uses them to tell us when something important's going on?"

So Percy was, after all, just an experiment. "Okay."

"So I have to go now," Harry said. "I'll keep you posted." Only Percy was certain that he wouldn't.

†‡†

Harry showed up at Percy's door two days later. "Volde-- You-Know-Who's on the move again," he said, running a hand through his hair. "So I might not be here as often."

Percy was just shocked that he'd shown up again at all. He invited Harry in.

  
As You-Know-Who gained power, Harry spent more and more time away. Their time together, however, they lived up as much as they could. It began to escalate at a similar rate to You-Know-Who's growing dominion, and on the day the Muggle-born roundups started, Harry brought their relationship to a whole new level.

They were on Percy's comfortable chair, kissing, their shirts decidedly off, when Harry asked, "Can I... can I maybe touch you?"

"Oh God," Percy half-groaned, because he'd been halfway wanting this for a few weeks. "Yes, please."

And Harry put his hands on Percy's chest and brought them lower, undoing the zip on Percy's trousers, undoing the button, and he kept looking up at Percy, his gaze asking 'is this all right?' (Cedric was always bolder), and Percy kept nodding. And then he was lifting his legs up so Harry could draw the trousers and Percy's briefs down and off of him, and then he was _touching_ Percy, and it had been _so long_ since anyone but Percy had touched him there.

Harry's rhythm was slower than Cedric's had been, slower than Percy was used to, but somehow it almost felt _better_. He was tentative, which fired Percy up even more, and so light as to be almost teasing. "You can," Percy said. "You can go faster than that."

So Harry grew bolder, slowly, and it had been _so long_ and it felt _so good_ (and then Harry's hand slipped, and he laughed breathlessly for a moment before regaining grip and speed) and then Harry was kissing Percy's chest, and his glasses were sliding down his nose and hitting Percy on the collarbone. Percy carefully picked them up and dropped them on the coffee table and took his own glasses off, too, to be on the safe side, and as one hand was putting them down, the other was in Harry's hair. And as Harry's kisses grew sloppier, Percy slipped the hand that wasn't in Harry's hair down, into the waistband of his pants, and started stroking Harry's arse, as much as the (somewhat tight) fabric would allow.

Percy's hips jerked as Harry's grip on his cock tightened, and as Harry swirled his tongue over Percy's nipple, Percy came. He sat panting for a moment, before pressing the heel of his hand to the front of Harry's jeans. Harry canted into Percy's hand (as Percy continued to stroke Harry's arse with his other) until he came, too, the come gradually seeping through the cloth of his pants.

"Wow," Harry said, shifting a little uncomfortably against the cooling come.

"Yes, wow," Percy agreed. "Um, do you want some trousers to change into, Ce-- Harry?"

Harry froze. "You're still in love with him, aren't you."

"No!" Percy said. He almost believed himself.

Harry nodded, sceptic. "Okay," he said. "I'd like some other clothes, yes."

Percy got up. "Okay. Um, just a moment." He got up, found a pair of clean trousers (somewhat old, but more comfortable than he usually wore -- he figured Harry would appreciate it), and brought them back. "Here."

Harry took off his dirty pants and changed. Percy tried not to dwell on the fact that Harry was now wearing _his clothes_ without underwear. "I better go and help Hermione with our plans," he said awkwardly.

Percy nodded, and kissed him good-bye.

†‡†

But Harry didn't mention the Cedric slip-up the next time he came, or the next, and slowly, he and Percy grew closer (even though Cedric was always just a little bit between them). The day after he escaped Malfoy Mansion, they had sex (' _real_ ' sex, as Cedric and Harry both called it). Harry was drawn away more and more in the months following, but he came back whenever he could. And it was okay -- better than okay, even. All was as well as could be, in the middle of a war.

†‡†

"I'm going to have to go back to Hogwarts," Harry said, as the spring brightened into something distinctly summer-like, toeing the floor. "I think time's getting close."

Percy just stood there, hugged him. "I have the greatest faith in you."

"Thank you," Harry whispered, tilting his face up for a kiss. Percy complied.

The stood like that for a few minutes, before Harry broke away, furiously. "Actually, _not_ thank you. You're a fucking _coward_ , Percy. You sit in your flat, you sit at your sage little desk job, and _nothing happens to you_. People are _dying_ all around you and all you do is, is hide from the fucking _world_ and fret about bloody _Cedric_ and how you miss him! I'm, I'm just a stand-in for you or something, I know it, I--"

"You're not a stand-in!" Percy said, indignantly, thinking that perhaps he should add something about his job at the Ministry being decidedly _dangerous_ , what with the Death Eaters and all.

But Harry didn't listen. "I can't fucking stand doing this with you, Percy. You're _obviously_ still in love with Cedric and I can't fucking STAND being in love with you when it's like this, th--"

"You love me?" Percy was quite taken aback. "You, you... really?"

" _Yes_ ," Harry spat. "I _love_ you and I'm fighting to kill Volde-- You-Know-Who off, and it's for the sake of the world, but it's mostly for _you_ and Ron and Hermione and Ginny and my parents and Sirius and Remus and Moody and everyone, but mostly it's for _you_ and you're just, just _sitting_ here, trying your damnedest just to, to disappear!"

"I am _not_ trying to," Percy said, "to disappear, and I _don't_ think about Cedric--"

"--all the time," Harry broke in.

"No, not all the time," Percy admitted, "and I'm not going to pretend and say that I don't miss him -- because, Harry, you don't just _forget_ that kind of thing, but I _do_ have faith in you!"

"Whatever," Harry said, and stalked off. "You're welcome for fucking _protecting_ you against the Blood-traitor haters."

And Percy just stood there, shell-shocked.

†‡†

Percy wondered what had given him so harebrained an idea as to fight to his almost certain death, but then he saw Harry standing there -- focused, worried, beautiful Harry, with such a look of surprise on his face and his glasses slipping down his nose that Percy realised (with a certain amount of his own surprise) that he wouldn't mind dying for him.

And then he was caught up in a whirlwind of siblings, each chastising and welcoming him in turn, and he suddenly realised that they didn't make Cedric come to mind immediately -- realised that it had been a record amount of time since he'd last thought about Cedric in any way that incapacitated him, and he wondered why he hadn't seen them before, hadn't apologised for being an arse (as Ginny had so eloquently stated in her owl lifetimes ago). He smiled at Harry as Fred-or-George said something to him, and Harry smiled back.

And then, in the heat of the battle (he couldn't have told how much later that was for the life of him), he tendered his resignation to the Minister, and Harry pulled him aside, kissed him hard and fleetingly. "I love you," he said. "Never doubt that." And then Harry was gone.

As Percy cursed one of the Death Eaters in the Great Hall (furious about Fred), he realised that it was a goodbye of sorts, and a terror swept through him, that Harry might die, that he, himself, might be worse off than when Cedric did, that a hundred terrible things could happen. But after the final battle, there was Harry, and he was hugging Percy and pushing him off into a corner and hissing, "I though that Fred might've been you at first!" and saying something about how it had probably helped him win, in the long run, that split second had helped him defeat Voldemort. Percy didn't attend, though: he was thinking (as he kissed Harry's jaw and cheek and nose and lips) that maybe Harry understood what it was like with Cedric's death, that maybe Harry was the one who understood _him_ most of all. That maybe, somehow, he understood Harry most of all, too.

  


* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Polari was a theatrical and homosexual slang used widely in London in the 1950s and 1960s. Translation of Percy's first use of Polari is 'look at that good man with his pleasant face and excellent arse'. :D


End file.
